


Duel of Roses

by drakensis



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23564188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakensis/pseuds/drakensis
Summary: Original One-Shot based on the Otome Villainess Reincarnation CYOA
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

I am playing the game, frustrated that the putative villainess (the heroine’s own elder sister Rosemarie,) is forced to duel and die to her younger sister. Okay, the boy they’re fighting over denounces the engagement on grounds of loving Rosalie, preferring her conformity than the bickering of the first princess with her classmates, and the designated heroine being prettier. But accusing Rosemarie of sleeping with her admirer? That’s forcing her into a duel, she can’t decline to respond...

So why is she fighting her little sister? The damned brat they’re fighting over said it, sure his words could be taken to say the heroine is claiming it, but she really didn’t. It would make more sense if he had found out some other way, but then why didn’t the writers say...

Oh. Because whichever of them wins... he has them by the balls (figuratively). They killed their sister, and without him asserting that it was forced by circumstances they’re politically screwed. So he’s not just wedding the heroine - the better duelist, as she exceeds her sister in every way. He’s ensuring that after the marriage, he will be ruler - the promised reunion of the two branches of the royal family will leave him dominant. That bastard.

And the damn fool elder sister, rather than throwing her gauntlet at the prince throws it across her sister’s face. If she was thinking clearly - been the cool and clever woman she showed at times otherwise, she’d challenge him. Because while her sister beats her at everything, or so it seems, against the prince...

I throw the controller down, landing it before the prince’s face on the screen.

I have a fondness for roleplay and ignoring the words on the screen I imitate the First Princess’ voice as best I can.

“I am aware of how I compare to my dear sister, Sebastian. And you may count the engagement broken by your unforgivable slight to my honour.”

His face shifts subtly. From the appearance of dismay at a challenge to Rosalie to the actual sentiment as my glove lies before him on the path.

“Well?” I ask coldly.

“R-Rosemarie,” murmurs Rosalie.

Wait... his face changing, her speaking... Is this a secret route...

Except that I am not seeing them on a screen anymore. No, they stand before me in the glorious quadrangle court of Villarosa’s Noble Academy. With dozens of scions of Villarosan high society around us.

A society in which a duel is a sacred matter of honour.

Sebastian slowly crouches and lifts the glove. There are intakes of air around the yard. Yet, he could no more decline than I... and win or lose the duel, he has lost the greater game. Now it is he who faces death or the stain of being a kinslayer. His only out is to win and hope Rosalie makes excuses for him, a lesser prize which nets him still a junior position in the royal union at best.

“Appoint a second to call on me,” I instruct him coldly as he opens his mouth to reply. “Not my sister, she deserves better than to be caught between us. Pistols, sword or wand. Your choice.”

It was everything I could do to walk in a dignified fashion as I left. Memories were... welling up. Every scene in the game and a thousand more that never had been. The life of Princess Rosemarie of Villarosa, a life very unlike my own.

Quartzlock pistols if he is wise. They are erratic at best in their accuracy. Basically flintlocks, save that the clockwork hammer strikes a quartz block to create a spark, rather than carrying flint against steel. Most useful because they give non-mages a ranged option. He can hope for a draw and a second chance without the stain of slaying or being slain by.

Swords, basically the chinese jian, are a risk. He is stronger, taller... but my sister and I are very talented, though I acknowledge her edge. Close to even. But win or lose, he loses.

And then there is wands. Not literally, but duel by magic. That... depends. He does not stand out, but that might well be by design on his part. I - Rosemarie - was consistently second or third in our class, for what that counted for. (Rosalie, of course, was top.)

“Sister.”

As if summoned by my words, she caught up with me.

“Sister,” I replied, as cordially as I could.

“Rosemarie, you can’t... you can’t mean to kill Sebastian!”

Little fool. “I have little alternative but to face him. His words cannot stand. You should know, and if you do not, your teachers are at fault. Outside of marriage, a princess’ virtue may never be stained. That is one of the prices of our privileged existences.”

“I know! I know! But it need not be to the death!”

“He may formally recant, if he wishes. Crave my pardon publicly, if his pride allows. But for me, Rosalie. I live, vindicated, or I die. Either to him or in quiet disgrace as soon after as our family can contrive. These are the stakes.”

I looked to her and allowed a slight smile, the first since... since... how long had it been since Rosemarie had smiled sincerely? Months. A year? Since Rosalie and Sebastian met? “I would have accepted the transfer of the engagement for but one thing,” I added. “One thing he offered first and then added to as if it counted naught alone, meant nothing without also staining my honour. He said that he loved you. Enough for me, but not for him. Think on that, my dear sister. So close was he to everything he claims he wanted, but he could not accept that victory alone.”

-

Jerome came to me that night.

Not like that, although the temptation was there. If I am accused, should I not have that benefits of the crime?

But no. It would be dishonest. It would drag him down with me. And if the gods do indeed pass judgement then I would lose, deservedly. Most of all, it would be cruel to offer him my body and not the heart that is not his.

Not that I do not care for him. That is also cruelty for our friendship drags him after me, away from whatever happiness he might have found with another.

But he came to me that evening, a written notice in his hand. “They assume I am to be your second.”

“If I lose, you will pay the price too.” I stood in the doorway, he leant against the wall facing me. My hair was down. Scandalous, but putting my hair up was beyond those of Rosemarie’s skills that I had. Not because they were lacking, simply that my hands were shaking.

There was a terrible moment when I thought he would ask something more of me. That we leave together. Kick this academy and kingdom behind us and head out into the wide world together. Not even as lovers but just as boon companions.

Instead he simply sighed. “Yes. So, I lose nothing by squiring for you once more.”

“My knight. And I could ask no better champion if I desired one.”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” Jerome admitted. “I have beaten him at swords... twice out of five times.”

“Is it swords, then?”

He nodded. “You do not desire a champion.”

“Duel or not, royal blood on your hands would doom you, Jerome.”

“And for you...”

“We are not such close kin.” I felt my lips curl. “Else we could not have been engaged.”

Jerome raised his hand but lowered it before it reached the height of his waist. “Two days hence.”

“Two days.” My own hand also rose, brushing my cheek. “Foolish of him. Today I would be in no state. But two days?”

“Noon. In the quad.”

I took a deep breath. “Two thoughts occur to me, Jerome.”

“Firstly, how will he cheat?”

How very strange. My hand ceased its trembling. “Second, you have fought him five times.”

Jerome bowed his head. “Indeed yes. Shall I book a salle for the morrow.”

“That I would be grateful for. And for the rest...” I gave a crooked smile and strode forth from the room, down the hall to the stair and was leaning over the rail before those eavesdropping could make themselves invisible. “Fleur, Eirlys, you can hear us far better from up here.”

There was a squeak of embarrassment from the latter and then blonde Fleur drew her up the stairs after her. “Are you sure we aren’t interrupting anything?”

“You know I would never dishonour our princess,” Jerome murmured, a touch more steel to his tone.

“More’s the pity,” she commented as we walked to one of the many small meeting areas - isolated enough for discreet conversation, too open for... more.

Eirlys pulled her sleeve free and then walked behind me, drawing my hair back into the beginnings of a loose braid. “You believe Sebastian does not intend to face you fairly.”

“I begin to doubt...” My voice caught. “Doubt that he ever has.”

“There will be many witnesses,” pointed out Jerome. “That will make it harder to hide any deceit.”

“Or hide it beneath obscurity. And if so many witnesses miss it...” Fleur tsked. “We know where, but who...”

“As challenged, he has the choice in many of the details.” Eirlys pulled one lock of hair that had tangled, drawing it out. “Why two days?”

“Time for people to gather.”

“Time for news to spread.”

“Time for him to travel a good ten or twenty miles and return,” I pointed out. “He can reasonably drop out of sight.”

“You suspect some token... or a weapon?”

We all exchanged looks. “Swords,” I declared a hair before the other three.

“The terms of your engagement included returning the Rose Swords.” Fleur pursed her lips. “He wouldn’t dare... would he?”

None of us leapt to Sebastian’s defense. “I think,” Jerome allowed judiciously, “That we know very little of what he might or might not dare.”

“If he has practised with one of them and I have not?”

“Could you decline?”

I almost shook my head to Eirlys’ question but she tugged my hair a little more forcefully. “Crimson Rose and Alabaster Rose are practically made for this.” Rare was the clash between the two royal lines of Villarosa where those swords had not been unsheathed. Lost a century ago, but if he offered them... I would have to use my dynasty’s Alabaster Rose. It would be inexcusable not to.

“There may be more to it,” I added thoughtfully. “Killing me would vindicate his accusations, but to then wed my sister.”

“So, he will be aiming for a less complete victory... an advantage?”

I frowned. “Hard to assure with swords. He must know that I will be... disinclined to settle for less than his heart.”

-

The quad once more. Sebastian stood with two swords, one in each glove. I drew my own on, silk inside the fingers for grip, leather on the outside for protection, and waited as Jerome stepped forth and met with Sebastian’s second...

I didn’t know the boy by name. An outsider? Or someone so discreet as to be useful in errands?

Irrelevant.

The duel was everything.

“Is reconciliation not possible?” asked the dean weakly. His duty, both to the academy and to the two royal lines, the two roses that had long entangled each other and offered thorns to outsiders.

“If he admits himself a liar and exiles himself henceforth from Villarosa,” I declared cuttingly.

Sebastian glared at me and then spread his hands as if helpless. “I am challenged, I accept,” he called back.

The dean stepped out of the circle of grass and then our seconds returned to us at the opposite edges.

“Your highness, Sebastian au Villarosa offers you the return of Alabaster Rose, that you may fight equally with him.” Jerome spoke loudly enough that all could hear.

“Equally?” I arched an eyebrow. “Presumptuous.”

Jerome shrug. “Do you accept?”

“I do.” Two words I might once have said to Sebastian under very different circumstances. “Call the circle.”

And, unarmed, I went to meet the one I would have married.

“You seem...”

I held up one hand crisply to silence Sebastian. We both wore the duelist’s breeches and shirts, his trimmed with crimson, mine faced with gold buttons. His hair tied back with a cord, mine loose.

We were of a height. A handsome couple, I had thought. Perhaps more than that.

“Sebastian au Villarosa, we meet under the code, I the challenger, you the challenged.”

“Rosemarie ei Villarosa, your challenge is accepted under the code,” he assured me, as if there had been doubt. 

“The terms are death.”

“I will accept surrender or incapacity on your part,” he said graciously. In truth, one old unfairness of the code, a gentleman must extend such acceptance to a lady. There reverse was not required.

Raising his hands, he extended the hilts of the swords.

In any normal case, there would have been a choice. The challenged presents two weapons and the challenger picks. A measure to ensure that the challenged did not supply a flawed weapon to his opponent.

But one hilt of polished steel held a diamond the size of a robin’s egg at the pommel, the other of gilt bore a ruby of equal dimensions. Facets glittered under the high sun.

“Alabaster Rose.” I extended my hand and Sebastian gripped the scabbard of the first sword, extending it in a hand...

That glove was leather on both sides.

The logic chipped together with lightning speed.

I reached past the offered hilt and seized that marked by a ruby.

There were cries of shock and outrage and I drew it from the scabbard with my backstep, the long blade - a handspan more so than was customary these days, and thicker - glittering.

The sword was light in my hand.

“That is the wrong sword,” Sebastian offered. He smiled, a slight edge to it. “Nerves or perhaps the light reflecting on it tricked your eye?”

“Crimson Rose,” I raised my voice to a carrying pitch, “Cannot shed the blood of Au Villarosa. Nor Alabaster Rose that of the Ei Villarosa. Or rather, should it be attempted then they will burn the hand that raises them to that purpose. Gilt and gems can be replaced, but the bloodsteel... knows its mistress.”

Sebastian’s eyes went flat as he stepped back, throwing aside the empty scabbard. He drew the other sword and it shrilled in his, eager as it was drawn for its purpose.

Jerome nodded to his counterpart and the two young men spoke as one: “En garde.”

He was fast. Blisteringly fast.

Once, twice I parried. The third cut nearly took an eye and shaved hairs from my bangs and the tiniest flecks of blood from my brow.

But the reason I didn’t parry was that I had drawn my arm back and stepped into the blow, arching back to avoid the cut from the long, heavy, impossibly sharp blade.

And within his reach Alabaster Rose thrust forward past my chest and into his.

Sebastian had thought to test me, once his ploy was foiled and my sword burned at my fingers. But I knew him already, through Jerome’s instruction.

It did not pierce his heart. I was too high, off to one side. But my sword brought with it blood as I wheeled, still within his reach, elbow below the ribs and then out and under.

He staggered, wheeled.

I was well out of lunging range, tossing Alabaster Rose into my left hand. My right glove I extended palm first towards Rosalie. “No burns, dear sister. It seems that I wield the Ei Villarosa blade, for all its cosmetic changes.”

I would have to look up the jeweler responsible for separating bloodsteel blade from the hilts and refitting them, I thought absently. Firstly, to restore the original condition and besides that... well, to do so well on what must have been short notice was commendable. The two blades differed in many subtle respects and it would have needed great care.

Sebastian was on me then and I parried left-handed - just as far as I must, for I am not left handed, to bring his sword out of line.

And then I kicked him squarely at the juncture of his legs.

My gloves were silk palmed. My boots were iron toed.

My hands met, and Alabaster Rose was in the right as it slashed out, the top tracing a line across his throat. Not deep enough to finish him, but it added more red to the trim of his shirt.

Now I pressed, now he parried.

The beat, beat of sword as I pressed him back. He was good. He was good enough that I had severe doubts if I could break through his guard before he found an opportunity to turn it back on him.

The truth is that no one can maintain such a tempo forever. I thrust for the last time I could be sure I would remain in form and like a metronome he turned my blade aside, Alabaster Rose crossing Crimson Rose.

And then I thrust once more, a hair out of line, my balance not perfect.

Sebastian took the opportunity, sword up and ready... reddened also as it furrowed my upper arm.

A fraction lower and he would have found the vein of the arm. His gloves though, with their leather inside, left him a fraction less control than he was used to.

And I gritted my teeth and extended the lunge.

Crimson Rose tore out of my flesh and grated up past my shoulder, a spray of carmine across my face.

And Alabaster Rose pierced him left of the breastbone. Deep enough.

Sebastian stared at me, eyes disbelieving. From somewhere I heard Rosalie sob.

“Liar.” I said to him and let him fall, catching Crimson Rose in my left hand as the bloodied sword fell from his.

Both swords I plunged into the soil of the quad, leaning on them as the Dean and our seconds confirmed what all of us knew to be true.

“Sebastian au Villarosa lies dead, by the will of the gods,” proclaimed the Dean.

The last thing I remember of that duel is of falling into Jerome’s arms and a great shadow across my eyes.

-

I woke in Rosemarie’s bed, with a familiar tingling in my shoulder that presaged the anaesthetic spell beginning to fade. I had half-expected to wake in my room, looking at the cut-scene from the stupid game, but apparently not.

There were two warm presences flanking me. Eirlys’ dark hair pressed against my left shoulder (which would make casting another anaesthetic spell interesting, even if I was inclined to try to do so left handed) while Fleur had sat further from the head of the bed and had fallen asleep with the effect that she was effectively immobilising my right arm.

Which might be for the best.

Blinking, I looked beyond the bed itself. It was a four poster, wide enough that the two girls could have slept comfortably alongside me and that my position dead centre was far more dramatic than it would be convenient for healers. The curtains around it were drawn back but light veils still hung down, a holdover from the days when insect-repellent spells were less reliable.

Villarosa did not have a problem with insects as such, but the academy had been built on land that could be sequestered for the purpose without greatly offending the nobles with lands around the capital nor the crown estates of either dynasty.

In other words, land reclaimed from a swamp. And then send the offspring of every house of note (and a sprinkling of the more promising no nobility, because upwards social mobility is a safety valve) there for their formative years. My ancestors, ladies and gentlemen. Entire generations of students were highly motivated to figure out spells to make the place tolerable.

Someone - I recognised Jerome by the angle of his shoulders - stood up from the chair by my window. I assumed that there was someone else there as a chaperone, because unmarried man in a room with three unmarried ladies... there would be more duels if that was allowed and I really did not feel up to that right now.

“Your highness,” he asked in a low voice. “Are you awake?”

“Yes. And if the next question is about pain, then not yet.” I had enough experience of anaesthetic spells from training accidents to measure. “Give it a few moments and I may be waking the others though.”

“‘m not asleep,” Eirlys muttered. “Just resting my eyes.”

Under other circumstances I might have petted the top of her head. “You keep doing that.”

The next sound she made was a soft snore. It would be unladylike to giggle without covering my mouth, which was unfortunately impossible. Jerome chuckled though.

“I’ll renew the spell.” The familiar voice of the academy’s nurse came from beyond Fleur.

That sounded wonderful but - “Am I expecting guests?” The political issues raised by the duel would likely not wait long - although I might have no say in them. “If so, a numbing charm might be wiser.”

“It would not be medically recommended,” the nurse warned.

“Your father... and his highness Au Villarosa... are discussing the matter with the Dean.”

Oh, to be a fly on the wall. Jerome’s statement boded ill. “Do they have the swords?”

His head shook. “They are secure. I know where but cannot retrieve them without your ladies’ consent.”

“Well done.” I could think of some possibilities, but that didn’t matter right now. “And my sister?”

He shrugged. “I know not.”

“Their highnesses have specified that neither you nor your sister should leave your rooms until they decide the matter, your highness.”

“Their decision. I see.” I am not, by nature, rebellious. But agreement between the two of them would likely bode ill at best on a personal level for myself. Sebastian is, after all, the only male heir of either direct line. Was the only male heir. His father would agree to little having lost him, forgive less...

Of course, disagreement between the kings is a recipe for civil war within the kingdom. The two roses intertwined have bound Villarosa apart... but also divided us on occasion. And such divisions, as the history of our ancestral swords tells us, are often bloody.

“Best I speak to them now then. I am loathe to lean more heavily on you, Jerome.”

“To carry a message is the least of a faithful squire’s duties, your highness.”

“And consideration a knight’s.” That drew a pause.

“Yes, that is true.” For it had been a witnessed and sanctioned duel. The knighthood of Villarosa is not passed down from one to another through training or ancestry. The blood that matters is that spilled, or at least hazarded, in the sacred rite of duelling. Sebastian would be buried as a knight, the one small reward that he had won in accepting my challenge.

And I would live as one, besides all the other titles I might have. One title that I could at least claim was my own doing and not simply handed down from my ancestors. For all the boasting others had made of how they intended to win their knighthoods, I felt no different save for twinges in my shoulder that...

Oh dear.

The nurse showed discretion and cast immediately, my shoulder numbing almost instantly. “I’ll trust to your self-discipline, your highness, not to move your right arm. Unlike an anaesthetic, you’ll have no warning if you’re straining the wound.” Numbing stilled all sensations from the point of origin, while anaesthetic spells rendered the pain impulses to the brain to the merest trifles, without clouding awareness of the affected body part.

Like most spells that affected the brain though, they did not benefit one’s mental faculties.

“Please inform their highnesses that I am able to speak with them at this time, but that medically speaking it may be less fruitful later,” I asked Jerome, conscious he would take it as a command. “If they prefer not to speak with me, well, that is their decision.”

A decision that they might easily make... unless they had noticed that Alabaster Rose and Crimson Rose were not in evidence. Benedict au Villarosa had leveraged his control of both swords to persuade my father that Sebastian and I should wed, uniting the two royal lines. Well, we had seen how that had gone.

But now the House of Ei Villarosa had the two swords... or rather, Rosemarie ei Villarosa did. What they might make of that... well.

It was an unaccustomed and heady feeling. One that could too easily lead to overconfidence.

“So, my other injuries?” I enquired while Jerome was gone.

“Yes.” The nurse raised an eyebrow to me. “The cut to your face is closing nicely and shouldn’t scar at all.”

“It didn’t feel like much,” I agreed clinically. “But adrenaline can deceive.”

“In this case, no. Your arm though.” She shook her head. “The lower arm should be well enough but the way that the sword tore out... it’s a very ragged cut up to your shoulder and bloodsteel is a complication in cases like this when it’s veritably soaked in someone’s blood.”

“I suppose I shall have to give bare-shouldered dresses consideration only when I wish to display the results of the duel,” I noted. “Well, if a wardrobe consideration is the worst I must consider...”

I shuddered slightly, Sebastian’s face before my eyes. As he died. As Rosalie cried out for him. No, not the worst.

“You have indeed come out of this far more lightly than might have been the case.” The nurse frowned. “Duels do not need to be to the death.”

I let my smile. “In your study of medicine, surely you are familiar of the cases once encountered where wounds might become infected beyond cleansing spells ability to cure.”

She nodded. “Your point?”

“The body politic can also be so infected. And a spell to cleanse them has not yet been devised.”

The door opened then. Jerome could not have had to go far, but I suppose the Dean would not have wished to take the kings too far from me. They would want me under their thumbs... for whatever reason.

“Your highness,” Jerome greeted me from the door with all formality (the difference was of tone not the words, I must assure you). “I present to you, his highness King Blaise ei Villarosa and King Benedict au Villarosa.”

Father, grey touching the red of his hair and beard. Tall, thin and dour Benedict. Who had required that I call him Uncle since the engagement. Somehow, I doubted he would feel thus now.

“Your highnesses. I would rise, but it is against medical advice.”

“Take it as done.” Father’s hand swept dismissively. “Dame Rosemarie, your duel has upheld your virtue.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed. “That I must concede.” How painful those words.

“I am sure, your highness, that the defacing our ancestral blades is as distasteful to you as it is to myself,” I answered him.

“If my son’s only sin was to underestimate you, he has suffered the price.”

“And for all else, he answers to judges beyond any of us.” I almost shrugged but remembered at the last moment. “As we all must.”

Father folded his arms. “Your sister weeps, bereaved.”

“I do not dispute her right to feel bereaved, more so than I but less so that his highness.”

“You measure it so?”

“She is bereaved of the man she thought he was, a man she thought loved her. I merely a man I considered honourable and to respect me. Yet for all he schemed to turn blood against blood, Sebastian was of your blood, Uncle Benedict.”

He paused. “Yes.” And then with painful sincerity. “But perhaps not the son I thought that I had raised.”

“Nor that any of us knew.”

Benedict nodded tiredly. “I do not forgive you... niece, that you might have been. But my son’s disgrace is enough that nor will I seek your head.” Though others will, I guessed. Sebastian had risen fast and far within the court and upon the promises of a joint royal house. He had had a party, even if I had not seen it, and for men whose hopes were dashed... well.

“Sufficient unto the day.”

“I will ask my family’s sword of you.”

I nodded. “Send your daughter for it, when she is of age to invest as your heir.”

King Benedict had half-turned to leave but now his head turned back and the eyes that looked at me were those of perhaps the finest duellist of his generation. “Perhaps I have misheard you.”

“I think you have not. The swords... and the future of Villarosa, are our generation’s now. Not present, I think we are not ready.”

“On that last, I agree.” Father stepped closer. “Rosemarie, we cannot keep Crimson Rose.”

“The Au Villarosa have held both blades two generations now. Trophies of a conflict between our two houses far worse than this has yet become.” I met father’s eyes as clearly as I could through the veil that separated us. “Alabaster Rose I will pass to Rosalie, Crimson Rose to Susannah. I neither need nor desire a trophy of this matter.”

Benedict reached forward and took my father’s shoulder. “You imply a willingness to step aside?”

I smiled slightly. “It would be destabilising to say now. But if the fathers who wrought this situation must begin to step back, the elder siblings are the ones who bared steel between our houses.”

“I am not prepared to dismiss you as my heir,” murmured my father.

“Nor do I promise to stand aside should Rosalie falter, as unlikely as I find that.”

“Then what have I to look for?” demanded Sebastian’s father. “My son...”

“The shame is of his doing, your highness.” Jerome spoke out of turn. “Not yours, nor that of Princess Rosemarie.”

“Who are you to speak to me thus?”

“The other who would have been shamed and killed by his lies.” Jerome did not falter and I felt my heart beat faster at his courage. It might cost him dear, but how rare them man who will face a king undaunted. “I stood the princess’ second, but she was in this my champion.”

“Today, I will let that pass, boy.” Benedict did not reach for his sword, but the temptation was visible. “Do not come to my attention again. Know that I find you insolent and will veto any appointment King Blaise offers you at court.”

“Your highness, the one reward I expected, I have received and is beyond your vetoing.”

“Is it then?” Benedict turned back to me. “I see.”

I blinked. What did he see? All Jerome had received was vindication that we had done nothing. He might have hoped for more, but I doubt he had expected it and he had most assuredly not received it.

“I accept your witnessed declaration that you will yield up Crimson Rose to Susannah; and the duel confirms that Sebastian’s only valid reason to dissolve the engagement was false,” Benedict continued. “And neither myself nor your father, Rosemarie, accepted or endorsed that decision in anyway.”

My father frowned. “But now that he is dead, what - Benedict, no.”

The other king smiled without kindness. “By ancient law, my son’s death in a duel leaves you without a husband, so my family will accept you as a daughter.”

“That law is for those without family!”

Benedict shook his head slightly. “That is how it has been used, yes. But the law does not limit it to such cases.”

“I ve-”

“Think twice before you say that, Blaise. I am refraining from taking this matter further. As my daughter, Rosemarie is a symbol of our reconciliation, that the duel ends the matter.”

“There are other ways.”

“But that is the one I will accept.” He leaned forwards. “Rosemarie au Villarosa will be my heir precisely until she passes Crimson Rose on to Susannah. And even then she will remain my daughter.”

“But not then my heir.”

“You still have Rosalia, do you not? The daughter who exceeds Rosemarie in every respect, except it seems, readiness to kill my son.”

I don’t think that that’s an entirely fair point. “I accept.”

“Rosemarie!” My fa- King Blaise protested.

I let my lips curl into a smile. “I am sure that it is beneath my new father to punish his daughter for the actions of his son.”

“I shall indeed protect you.” Benedict stepped around the bed, brushed the nurse aside and drew back the veil around me. I was awkwardly far from the edge of the bed but he somehow managed to lean over it and kiss my cheek without looking ungraceful. “Including from all suitors,” he whispered with savage intensity. “Grow old alone, ‘tis my curse upon you.”

He swept out while I was still staring at him.

“I will speak with him,” Blaise promised - I assume unaware of what had been said. “I hope you do not regret this, da- Rosemarie.”

“Regrets are part of life, your highness.” I waited until the door was fully closed. “I need not regret my sister’s blood on my hands, nor that she ascends to be your heir with the stigma of kinslayer, as Sebastian planned.”

His blue eyes widened. “I had wondered at why he would risk a duel. But that presupposes a schism between you and Rosalie that...”

“One he had sought very carefully to engineer.” I dipped my head at his understanding.

“...and she realises this now.”

I let rue touch my smile. “I would imagine it wounds her. Go to her please. I am weary still and I am sure the good nurse would have me rest.”

He glanced to her and I suspect received a nod. “Very well. But Rosemarie, though you are now Au Villarosa, you are still my daughter in every way save law. You may come to me.”

“A unique honour, to call two kings father.”

King Blaise ei Villarosa’s smile was wan as he left. Jerome followed him out, closing the door behind them both. Vindicated or not, many doors had been closed to him through Benedict’s wrath. It was a shame, but what could I do to make it right?

No, not today, I chastised to myself. Sleep. I should recover more and then on the morrow I can put more thought to this strange future.

“Did I hear that correctly?” Fleur asked as the nurse stepped out as well, for some other portion of her duties or perhaps just to the nearest washroom.

I blinked down at her, not having realised she had woken. “What did you hear?”

“That King Benedict promised you effectively unlimited protection against suitors.”

“Yes.”

“He does realise that there’s a reason the two of us are on your bed with you?”

I pursed my lips. “Royalty can be a very sheltered existence.”

“Poor Jerome,” she said slyly. “Maybe I should marry him and make him my kept man. He could honestly say he has only shared my bed as long as we don’t say who else was in it.”

“Don’t do that!” I exclaimed.

“Whyever not?”

“Well, not until I recover. Right now, it hurts me to laugh.”

“Can we at least take the swords out from under the mattress first?” asked Eirlys plaintively.

It really did hurt to laugh.


	2. Epilogue - Rosalie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had no intention to continue, but the voices in my head insisted.

A knock on the door drew Rosalie’s gaze away from the mirror.

There was little that she saw there that she liked, anyway.

“Your highness, it is your father.”

The time had come then. She looked at the mirror once more. Red ringed eyes, pale face. Hair that was in ringlets only out of the fact that it settled neatly into them. What had he ever seen in her?

A fool, it seemed.

“Please let him in.”

Rosalie curtsied to her father as he entered. Better than meeting his eyes. She heard his feet on the carpet, kept her eyes on that as the door closed behind him. A hot sting at the corner of her eyes told her that she could not hide her feelings.

A large hand - callused like her own, like Sebastian’s or Rosemarie’s by the hilt of a sword - touched her chin gently and then Blaise ei Villarosa brushed the tears away with his thumb. “Let the tears come, Rosalie. Holding those feelings back will only turn them to poison in your heart.”

He gathered her to him and she was again a small child in his arms, back in the small manor she had been raised in. Away from the court, after her mother died. From her sister after the engagement. Lonely save for the times her father rode there to spend time with her.

When the tears had spent themselves, he guided her to one of the chairs by the window and offered her his handkerchief before seating himself facing her.

And then the king said nothing, let the silence stretch between them until she could bear it no longer.

“I am a fool.”

“You have been foolish, yes. So long as you do not make a habit of it, you will be no worse than the rest of us.” Her father looked her over. “I have sheltered you too much from politics and your sister too little. My own foolishness.”

“Sebastian… was not who I thought.” And shamefully that was what stung the worst. Not her sister’s wounds, or the fact that she – Rosalie – had betrayed her. The fact that it had been for nothing! That he had only been using her.

“Few of us are.” He looked sad. “I too fell in love while I was here. My parents thought it best I attend the Academy under another name, to see Villarosa without the filter of royalty. It was not always a pleasant sight. And I believed then that I would find myself at sword point, literal or figurative with the heir of the Au Villarosa who had killed my uncle and claimed Alabaster Rose.”

Blaise shook his head sadly. “But I made a friend in a grumpy fellow named Ben. And then a rival when it turned out we loved – or at least thought we loved – the same woman.”

“Mother?”

That got a laugh. “No, my dear. She came much later. No. Athene cared for both of us. And because I was not inclined to be dishonest with her… or perhaps because I thought it would burnish me in her eyes, when I confessed my feelings I first made it clear who I was.”

Her father sighed. “The throne was no part of her dreams, it seemed. And while her counter-offer, to leave with her and let the kingdom see to itself, was not without temptation I was raised with the privileges of royalty and understood that the price I would pay for them was the responsibilities. So we parted ways and I felt it only fair to tell Ben that his way was clear, and why.”

He sat back and gestured to Rosalie. “We sat much like this, with some wine, and I made a clean breast of it. Explained everything. To my embarrassment, he didn’t seem very surprised I was royalty. And then he finished his glass and told me: ‘You damned fool, I’m Benedict au Villarosa’.”

Rosalie gave him a startled look. “Sebastian’s father?”

“Oh yes. And on that we were able to begin mending the rift between our parents’ generation. Forged an effective partnership that has led the kingdom well for almost twenty years. And began this mess.”

“I am so sorry.” Such empty words.

“Out of the three of you, you are the least to blame. Out of the five of us, even.”

The girl started, looked up at him.

Her father gave her a crooked smile, hauntingly like that which sometimes graced Rosemarie’s face. “I protected you from learning much that you needed to know. You would not recall Gracia di Thorns.”

She stared at him. “No… some kinswoman of the Duke of Thorns?”

“His daughter. A year or so the elder of Rosemarie.” Blaise gave her a grim look. “The year before you began attendance here, her fiancée accused a certain young man of dallying with Gracia. They fought a duel and the young man was killed.”

Rosalie could almost feel the blood drain from her face. “What happened?”

“Gracia was withdrawn, the engagement cancelled… and two months later she was reported dead. Drowned in the river.” Her father snorted. “I know their estate and the river is only a yard deep as it passes through. Gracia swam like a fish.”

“Was she… was it true?”

“Even a king must accept the outcome of a duel,” her father answered without answering. “What did you expect would happen to Rosemarie.”

“Sebastian… he suggested that if the engagement was transferred then she and Jerome would be free to be together.”

“Perhaps if the kingdom was in dire danger. And if he was critical to its salvation. And if Benedict was willing to the creation of a suitable title to bring Jerome up to a rank sufficient to soothe feathers among the dukes…” Her father shrugged. “But I am glad to say that no such danger looms, however convenient it might be for him. And are you sure of their feelings or are you just listening to rumours? For I can assure you that those often blow matters entirely out of proportion.”

“…” She had never, she realised, ever asked her sister about her feelings. “I should have asked her.”

“I think that it would be best for my daughters to feel that they can talk with each other.” Blaise gave her a smile. “Even if she is now Benedict’s daughter in the eyes of the law.”

“What?”

“An old law that he has chosen to invoke. It is intended to account for cases where an engagement was to bring someone into the family, so the death of the betrothed could not be allowed to end the arrangement.”

Rosalie shook her head in confusion. “But why would he do that?”

“Do you believe that the reason matters, or the result?” her father asked.

“I… both?”

“Hmm.” He nodded. “Benedict would say only the result. He has said often that he sees his role to be the stern and merciless king, to leave the foolish ideals to Ei Villarosa. It is not an ineffective partnership, but perhaps Sebastian heard that often enough and focused on the idea we are foolish, rather than on the ideals. Ironic, since of the two founders of our houses I would reckon Richard ei Villarosa was by far the more ruthless of our first monarchs. But I merely speculate.”

Rosalie thought a moment. “The result would be… the political result, it will show reconciliation over the issue.”

“Yes. I suspect Benedict’s reasons may be less generous in origin, but Rosemarie has chosen to trust his sincerity and I will trust her here.” Blaise rubbed his beard. “He has lost a son and I, in another way, a daughter. Though only in the law. I think she will make a very fine Au Villarosa, for she saw a threat to herself and our House and acted decisively to destroy it. What Benedict reasons are now, in grief and anger, may be something very different later when his passions have cooled.”

“Do you think she will ever forgive me?” asked Rosalie.

“My dear, who do you think told me – ordered me, very nearly – to come here and see that you are well? The law is the law, but family is family. But do clean your face first and wait until she has rested more. Or she will think I haven’t done as she said and I fear that young knight’s displeasure very much.”


End file.
